It comes to me every now and then, the feeling of writing, but I let it pass.

All my thoughts, fears, insecurities and theories seem too trivial to be recorded now I think.

Or perhaps, they've become to personal to be documented.

Either way, I let it pass.

I wonder what changed today, that I did stub my cigarette and put my glass of coke away, to get my laptop out of my bag. Blogger was the only tab I opened because I just didn't want anything else to distract me today. It's not like I have something pathbreaking to say but today I just had to see this little white bugger of a blogger box with its blinking cursor and fill it up with words strung together in half baked thoughts.

What I didn't realize is how frustrating this would be.

Frustrating because I think I have forgotten how to write at all really; presuming I did have a hold on that craft ever.

If I were writing right now on a paper with a pen, I have a feeling I'd be in a room with crumpled paper strewn across the floor.